Late For A Funeral
by Happytohelp
Summary: Aang is always late. But what he's late for can make all the difference.


**It was better in my head, okay. I didn't want to go off on one, but I think it sounds a bit rushed. Even so, it's growing on me. The title's good though.**

**I think I'm rushing myself. New guy syndrome, I guess. Also, why do I keep writing these little justifications? Insecurities? Wouldn't _you_ like to know?**

* * *

"Aang!" she called after him, "Aang, where are you?"

Katara had been searching down by the river all morning. She was looking for a young airbending boy, with whom she had been travelling. Her brother was back at camp, packing up the remains of their supplies and piling them onto the young boy's flying bison, Appa. Their journey so far was far from what could be called uneventful. Her world had been turned completely upside down, and though she didn't know it yet, she was almost certain that leaving the South Pole with her brother to accompany Aang had been one of the best decisions she had ever made.

They had set up camp near a river the previous night, and in the morning Aang was nowhere to be found. Normally, she would have been worried sick, but her brother had been able to convince her that she had nothing to worry about. Aang was, after all, a fully certified airbending master, the only one in the world, not to mention _the Avatar_. She had already witnessed the raw destructive power of the Avatar state, and was totally awed when she saw him fight off an entire Fire Nation fleet, saving the Northern Water Tribe single-handedly. If anyone could take care of himself, it was him. However, after he had been missing for several hours, Katara once again began to worry.

Over the course of her travels, she had begun to feel a strange compulsion towards protecting the young boy. While he was undoubtedly more capable of protecting himself than she was, now that she was almost a master waterbender she felt like his personal bodyguard. She didn't know why, but she was scared every day that something would happen to him. Something like what had happened to her mother. She didn't like to think about that, let alone that happening to _him_, so she often kept more than a close eye on him.

That particular morning, they were_ supposed_ to be flying to the Earth Kingdom city of Omashu, to learn earthbending from Aang's old, make that _very_ old, friend Bumi, the king of Omashu. However, when she and her brother had awoken that morning, Aang was nowhere to be found. So, after making a breakfast for her brother and herself, and packing up camp, she had set off in search of him.

After a long while searching, she heard the all too familiar sound of sloshing water. She followed the sound and, lo and behold, there he was, waterbending to his heart's content. She didn't recognise the form he was practising, and was intrigued by it. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and she was amazed at the precision of his movements. He had obviously been practising the move for some time, _outside_ of her lessons with him. She decided, after several minutes of secret observation, to notify him of her presence.

"Hey, Aang!" she called.

At the sound of her voice his body stiffened sharply and his concentration broke completely. He was drenched in his own water, and he turned to face her, red with embarrassment

"Oh… hey Katara," he mumbled, "Uh… good morning…?" he offered, clearly flustered by her sudden arrival.

"Yeah," she said frowning, "it _is _a good morning. Speaking of which, where have you _been_ all morning?"

He seemed to blush even deeper under her questioning.

"Oh, uh, I couldn't sleep so I… uh, I came down here to practise some waterbending." He hedged.

"Uh huh," she nodded. "All by yourself?"

He seemed more confident with his answer to that question. "Yep, all by myself."

"Well, I have noticed you've been getting better recently, I guess now I know why."

"Heh, yeah…" he ducked his gaze.

"Say," she drawled, "that form you were practising, I don't think I've ever seen it before."

"Oh, uh, really?" he blushed deeply, once again, and Katara struggled to hold in her giggles at how uncomfortable he looked.

"Nope, mind teaching it to me?" she prodded.

"Oh, no, I don't think I can do that…" he told her, guiltily.

"Why not?" she asked, clearly disheartened by his rejection.

"Well, um…" she didn't think it was possible, but he blushed _even deeper_ at her newest interrogation. "It was, sort of, meant to be a, umm, well," he mumbled, clearly struggling with how to phrase his explanation. He seemed to wrestle with himself inwardly for several seconds, before breathing a sigh of defeat.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he told her resolutely.

For some reason, she broke into a smile. "For me?"

"Yeah…" he forced an awkward chuckle, before pouting at the ground.

"Why?" she wondered, genuinely intrigued.

"Well, I guess since you're such a great waterbender and all," she found herself blushing at his compliment, "that I, sort of, wanted to impress you."

She almost laughed out loud at his admission, but wisely held back, as she could see how embarrassing it was for him to admit it.

"Aang," she said kindly, "you don't need to impress me. You impress me every day. You're an airbending master, you're a natural waterbender, and not to mention you're the Avatar. You're so strong, all the time, especially considering what you've been through, and what you've lost." He raised his eyes to smile at her.

"You don't need some silly waterbending form to impress me, you just need to be you."

"Thanks, Katara," he beamed.

"Now," she began, "get out of there before you catch your death of cold!" Aang laughed and for some reason Katara felt the need to laugh too. It was just another thing about him that she loved.

"I'm sorry I've held us up as long as I have," he told her, regretfully.

"Well, you should be," she scolded him sarcastically. "I swear, you'll be late to your own funeral, Aang."

* * *

It was done. The war was over. Fire Lord Ozai was defeated and everything was supposed to be perfect.

Aang was supposed to be with them.

When she and her friends had travelled to Wulong Forest to look for Aang, in his place they had found a defeated Fire Lord Ozai, who told them with all the glee he could muster just how he had deprived them of their airbending friend.

They grieved for weeks.

A funeral was planned for the late Avatar, the last of his kind. However, between the three remaining nations, and between the group of friends, the only agreement that could be reached was that it be held at the Southern Air Temple.

Of the friends, it was difficult to tell just who had taken Aang's death the hardest.

Maybe it was the Fire Lord, who barely spoke in his meetings, and who would confide in his girlfriend every night, telling her how much his regrets ate at him, how he couldn't forgive himself for his past actions. Maybe it was the Water Tribe warrior, who had made a promise to the boy that he had failed to keep. _Again_. Maybe it was the earthbender, who would shout at, and insult, her friends, but who every night would cry into her pillow, having lost the first friend she had ever made.

Or perhaps it was the waterbender, who might have killed him days before Ozai had. But she didn't want a chance to say she was sorry to him. She wanted a lifetime to _show_ him, but she would never have it.

The funeral was long and boring. Very few of the speeches made were particularly emotional, as so few had known him. But that didn't stop them from crying anyway. The boy who had saved them, all of them, literally and figuratively. The boy who had made them more than what they were, who had made them something great. The boy who had loved them all, far more than he had loved himself, was gone. It was difficult to understand, let alone accept.

"I don't understand it, dad," she sobbed into his arm, "he was supposed to _be_ here. How could he have kept himself alive for so long just to die now?"

"I don't know, Katara," Hakoda answered. He didn't know. He had felt the exact same pain before. The death of someone you loved. Not a family member. He suspected that his daughter had fallen in love with the Avatar.

"I always supported him, dad," she continued, her voice shaking like it had so many years ago when her mother had died, "I could always forgive him if he did something wrong. But I can't forgive him for dying, dad, it just isn't fair. Not to him and not to me!"

"He died so that all of us might live," her father began softly, "he died for you."

It was evidently the wrong thing to tell her, and her tears began again. He felt hopeless holding her, knowing there was little he could do to help her feel better.

But he didn't feel as hopeless as she did. No one did.

The funeral ended, and everyone returned to their respective nations. Katara moved back to the South Pole, and was dismayed to find herself back in the same old routine. The one _he_ had freed her from. She realised then how much she needed him, how much she had needed him all along, and it crushed her. Her brother and her father were deeply saddened by the state she was in. She practically lived outside, watching the sky. Hoping. _Praying_. Nothing could bring her out of her slump, nothing short of his return.

One day, about one month after her greatest friend in the whole world had died, and with it her whole future, she decided that she would return to where it all began. She snuck out one morning, before her Gran-Gran could wake up and dote on her, and before her brother or father checked on her, to try and find that iceberg. She searched and searched, but all in vain. She did spot a group of penguins however, and thought it might be a good idea to ride one. It wasn't. The moment she hopped on she was reminded of him yet again, as strongly as ever, and she felt that familiar pain that she had felt since his death.

She found herself at the old fire nation warship. She retraced her steps, breathing in deeply as though his presence might be felt. She eventually found herself in the old weapons room, in which she had told him that he had been gone for 100 years. It might as well have been that long for her since he had died. She sat down against the wall and brought her knees up to her chest.

"Aang, you idiot," she whimpered, "Why did you die?" It was a simple enough question, but she would never have a satisfactory answer for it. She sat there, wallowing in her sorrow for at least an hour, though it didn't feel like it. With her eyes shut tight she suddenly felt something strange in the room. A presence. She didn't open her eyes. She had felt things like this before. It was just her rampant imagination up to its old tricks again.

But this time it felt _so real_. It was different to the other times. Her heart almost skipped a beat when she heard the presence breathe. A slow, controlled breath. A wonderful, fantastical breath. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She jerked her head up, and as though the spirits themselves had answered her calls, there he stood.

He smiled down at her, sorrowful and sad, but as happy as he had ever been. She couldn't speak, she couldn't even move, such was her shock. He looked pensive for a moment, but instead of imparting some ancient wisdom on her, he slumped down to his knees to face her.

"Hi, Katara."

She was elated. _It's his voice! _She screamed internally, _he's here!_ But she still couldn't speak.

After several tense moments she found the strength to move again. She lifted her hand and touched his face, in total and utter disbelief that he was in front of her. Her face seemed to say something similar.

"I'm here, Katara," he beamed, "I'm real."

She grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him in to a bone-shattering hug. As he struggled to even breathe, she cried in to his shoulder, a month's worth of pain and loneliness unleashed on him in a matter of moments. Eventually, after he had found enough room to allow air into his lungs, he hugged back, clinging almost as tightly.

"Aang, you stupid idiot," she choked out, "I thought you were dead."

"Me too."

"You're not are you!?" she began frantically, "Please tell me it's not a dream!"

"Well," he began, smirking, "I don't _feel_ like I'm dead."

"Where have you been, Aang?!" she half-shouted at him.

"I've been busy," he told her, shrugging despite her vise-like grip.

"I thought I would never see you again," she whispered into his ear.

"Me too," he whispered, just as quietly. It was clear from his voice that he was as regretful as she was, and she did the impossible. She forgave him. All her anger left her, and she didn't care that he had been gone at all. She only cared that he was there.

At that, quiet admission, she pulled his head back and slammed their lips together, forcing him closer as though he might disappear again the moment she took her hands off him. He had no intention of leaving though, especially not _now_.

"Wow," he mumbled, after she released him, "if dying was all it took then I would have died a long time ago."

"You did…" she reminded him, the hint of a smile playing across her face.

Aang laughed at that and for some reason Katara felt the need to laugh too. It was just another thing she loved about him.


End file.
